


hardly working

by dicaeopolis



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Other, Pre-Relationship, Touch-Starved, cliches on cliches. Nothing that happens in this fic will surprise you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicaeopolis/pseuds/dicaeopolis
Summary: Molly won't leave him inpeace.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 22
Kudos: 165





	hardly working

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS BECAUSE I saw the first art [here](https://twitter.com/ViktorMaru/status/1295957806546399233?s=19) and blacked out and twelve hours later this was in my notebook
> 
> I am on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/medeawasright/status/1329155784790315009?s=19) and [Tumblr](https://dicaeopolis.tumblr.com/post/635154978085945344)

"Studying my cantrips," is what Caleb had told the others by way of an explanation, when he stayed downstairs at the inn after the rest went to bed. It's not untrue, but it's more just an excuse for some alone time. Paper and ink and the purring of his familiar help Caleb's mind settle, sorting his thoughts neatly for the evening.

But when he's about halfway through his chapter, there's a-

"Mind if I join you?"

It isn't really phrased like a question. Mollymauk is already draping himself over the chair next to Caleb, looking like a fashionable carpet.

"Ah," says Caleb. "It seems there is no stopping you."

It's a quiet inn on a quiet night. The fire's still going, but the tables are empty. The barkeep has already turned in, with a yawned "turn out the lanterns before you go, will you?" So it's just Molly and Caleb and the flicker of the lamps. Molly shrugs off his technicolor dreamcoat onto the back of his chair. Pulls out a blank card, cocks an eyebrow at Caleb. "Can't a tiefling want to draw a bit before bed?"

Caleb eyes him, but says mildly, "So long as you permit me to read in quiet, I am sure we will have no issue."

Molly does not permit him to read in quiet. He makes a pretense of drawing on the card, but when Caleb glances over, it's mostly just doodles. And he _fidgets._ He's constantly shifting around in his seat, sprawling this way or that, jiggling his knee, tapping his nails - claws? Caleb should really know the proper term at this point - on the tabletop.

 _"Mollymauk,"_ Caleb says, after a few minutes of staring at the same page.

"Mmhmm?"

The tone is sly. There is a slow, deliberate, _tap-tap-tap-tap_ of each finger onto the hardwood. Caleb, in a surge of frustration, grabs for Molly's hand. _"Would you-"_

And then he looks up to meet Molly's eyes, lidded and smirking in the lantern-light. Molly turns his hand upwards to fit their fingers together, and smooths his thumb over Caleb's.

"Would I…?" he prompts. Caleb jerks back his hand, ears burning.

He stares at his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Molly fold his arms onto the table and rest his chin on them. Caleb can _feel_ his gaze.

Dangerous games, the ones they play like this. The thing is, Caleb has _seen_ Mollymauk seduce people. Suffice it to say that it is not a slow process. If Molly were really trying to flirt, he would've grabbed Caleb's hand firmly and cupped the back of his neck to draw him in for a searing kiss and pulled him down to take him in a tangle of their coats right there on the inn's floor.

Or, er, something like that.

Not this slow, simmering thing, is Caleb's point.

"What're you working on?" Molly asks presently.

"Er, ah, a spell…"

Caleb has never quite been able to figure Mollymauk out. It's not a _problem,_ per se, just - Molly is discovering his selfhood, trying on this persona or that and then discarding them just as quickly, and Caleb is never really sure what his endgame is. Molly flaunts and swaggers and talks shit, and he seems to have settled into easy friendship with some of the party and blithe mutual antagonism with the rest, but Caleb - Caleb stays cautious around him. Tries to restrain his reactions when Molly says things like-

"If I start bouncing my leg again, will you grab that too?"

Caleb buries his face in his hands as Molly laughs quietly. He's _quite_ sure that he's crimson. "I - did you come here _just_ to try and distract me?"

Molly hums. "Is it working?"

 _"Yes,"_ Caleb grumbles. "I haven't gotten through a page since you got here-"

"And I've only gotten a few sentences out of you, so we're even, eh?"

The words are light and airy. Caleb pauses anyway.

…Hmm.

He removes his face from his hands. "…Mr. Mollymauk."

"Ah - Mr. Caleb?"

"You came here," says Caleb, "because you wanted attention."

"Well, if you're saying it like that, it makes me sound a little-"

"Desperate?" Caleb supplies.

Molly shifts in his seat. If Caleb didn't know him - if he couldn't see his tail flicking around behind his back - he'd miss it.

"Is _that_ why you're always provoking me, then?" Caleb presses, biting back his smile. "You know, when Frumpkin gets like this, he just jumps into my lap and is done with it."

"I - I-"

Mollymauk. Stuttering. Caleb stares at him, intrigued.

Serves him right, really. It can be his turn to get his buttons pushed for once.

"I can only be so patient," Molly manages, and now Caleb's flustered again too. He holds Molly's eyes, though. The vulnerability there slips away as quickly as it came. Molly tilts his head at Caleb, smiles his infuriating smile.

"…I do have to get some work done," Caleb says finally.

"Ah. Naturally." Molly reaches for his coat, seeming entirely unbothered. "I suppose I'll allow you the mercy of some privacy-"

"No," Caleb cuts him off, "come here." He pats his own shoulder, hoping Molly takes his meaning. "Pull your chair closer."

Molly moves _way_ too quickly to pretend indifference. His chair scrapes over the floor, and then he's resting his chin on Caleb's shoulder, fitting himself into Caleb's side. Caleb chuckles softly at him. _"What,"_ says Molly, even as he nuzzles closer.

"You could've just _asked."_

"Mm, it's much more fun getting you to chase me, though-"

Caleb wraps his arm around Molly's shoulders and squeezes. Molly shuts up. When Caleb strokes Molly's shoulder with his thumb, he can _feel_ the tiny shiver.

He does need his arm to write, though, and after a few minutes, he retrieves it. Molly presses himself right back against Caleb's side. "You can stay still like this, ja?" Caleb asks.

"Mm." Molly rests his cheek against Caleb's shoulder, watching him write.

"Can you even read," Caleb deadpans.

"I _choose_ not to."

The wind's gentle outside, and the fire burns low in the hearth. Frumpkin wanders off, returns with a satisfied expression and a mouse that he drops on the inn's doormat. Molly is quiet and warm. Caleb can feel the even rise and fall of his light breathing against his side.

When the fire is nearly down to coals, Caleb finishes his chapter. He folds the book shut. "Molly," he says softly. "Bedtime."

There is a quiet snore. Caleb goes absolutely still.

Mollymauk, whom he can't figure out. Mollymauk, who teases and flirts and never seems bothered by anything. Mollymauk, whose secret endgame goal for all his teasing and provoking seems to be _falling asleep on Caleb's shoulder._

And he's fully out, and Caleb's in no real rush to get to bed, so-

So Caleb presses his lips to the arch of Molly's horn, lingering.


End file.
